


after the knot is tied (tie another)

by OldMagpie (MagpieMorality)



Series: skip to the good part [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Grinding, Husbands with benefits, Light Bondage, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Modern Royalty, competitive foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27997749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieMorality/pseuds/OldMagpie
Summary: Being married is off to a good start for Joe and Nicky...An arranged marriage/modern royalty au wherein Joe and Nicky are navigating their new relationship...uniquely. But hey- if it works, it works. Right?
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: skip to the good part [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050629
Comments: 18
Kudos: 194





	after the knot is tied (tie another)

**Author's Note:**

> The first in a little miniseries of unrelated fics, all with the vibes of enemies-with-benefits! 
> 
> This was all started thanks to a few choice requests on the old disc, including: 'honeymoon phase but make it frenemies'; 'stamina comp that's just turns into edging where the point is to crack the other person until they beg and they are fuckin livid about it but its so great'; 'that snarky humour vibe'; and 'wrestling until one of them pins the other'.

Joe can think of at least seven sexier contexts to having Nicky’s fingers in his mouth. At least. Maybe even upwards of twenty and only some of them need take place in a bed. But alas his luck ran out the day they were announced to be married, because instead of Nicky pressing on his tongue and cooing praises about his lips his _husband_ \- yeah, that’s still new and it still stings and excites in equal measure- is instead using the grip to fight dirty. 

And not the fun kind of dirty either. 

“Go _down_ , fucker!” Nicky hisses, driving his heel into Joe’s knee to try and topple him. He’s lucky really, that Joe is too nice, too honourable a fighter to bite down. He could. He thinks about it. “Don’t even think about it,” Nicky growls, yanking his hand back fast enough to wrench Joe’s head a bit on the exit, when the pads of those wicked, tempting fingers catch his bottom teeth.

“Wasn’t,” he mutters, before gracing Nicky with his best publicity smile, wide and white and guileless. Nicky bares his teeth back, the feral goddamn child that he is. “Did I marry a man or a mongoose?” Joe taunts him, stepping away to circle around him in the boxing ring. They shouldn’t really be doing this without a supervising trainer and some proper gear (shouldn't really be doing this at _all_ if their royal training is to be listened to) but their private gym had been unoccupied and Nicky had been bored- and loud about it, too- and the ring was just right there… Their security hovers by the door anyway, so they aren’t truly alone or in danger from one another, but it’s still _improper behaviour_. 

Those words come out sounding like a mix of Joe's parents and grandparents in his head. He wonders with a shameless grin what they’d think of the rest of what he and his wedded beloved get up to together...

Nicky’s hand catching his jaw and trying to pull him down distracts him from that fun thought, but- before Nicky can complete the move and Joe can get a truly nasty bruise on his chin from the knee that awaits it below- a throat is cleared in the doorway. They pull apart quickly, ducking away to clean off without looking at each other while Joe’s uncle awkwardly sidesteps them and heads for a treadmill. Joe can’t _wait_ for their collective families to clear out now that the wedding is well and truly over and done with. It hasn’t stopped them from doing the things they’ve done but it’ll be nice to open up a whole host of new rooms and surfaces to their game. 

He walks behind and slightly to the left of Nicky back through the carpeted corridors to their rooms where they are deposited and finally left alone by their security shadows. Nicky starts muttering to himself in Italian almost as soon as the door closes, blood still clearly hot with adrenaline, and Joe has never once not risen to that challenge. 

“I suppose you think that was my fault?” he asks archly, wildly pleased when Nicky rounds on him from halfway across their bedroom, stalking closer with a familiar vicious set to his jaw. 

“Isn’t it always? You’re incapable of acting like a-”

“'Like a...'? Like a royal or a good husband or what? Like you’d know any better!”

“Don’t put words in my mouth!” 

“I’ll put whatever I want in your mouth, _darling_. And you’ll thank me for it.”

They freeze, too close but too far, breath held. Joe waits for the twitch that will signal Nicky’s intent to pounce and Nicky waits for Joe to stop expecting it. 

He lunges silently and swiftly, but Joe is getting better and better at this- at Nicky- and catches his hands before they can grab onto Joe, holding his wrists tightly. “Ah ah ah,” he tuts, leaning his head back away from Nicky’s sharp teeth, laughing at his fury. Nicky overbalances a bit and stumbles, has to lean their chests together to stay steady. The mad thump of his heartbeat is echoed in Joe’s ribcage. “What happened to me being the incapable one?”

“I detest you,” Nicky tells him. 

“I know,” Joe replies, kissing him hard enough to brand it into the back of Nicky’s throat. 

If ever he worried about Nicky’s feelings on this- on how they are together- then the total lack of hesitation before he surges forwards to meet Joe’s kiss with matched fervour would reassure Joe that his husband is no less than an equal participant. Nicky’s hands flex and try to get free but Joe has been caught out by that before, by his perceived submission, and still remembers the bruises and shock he’d felt at finding himself suddenly on his back with a smirking, devilish Nicky above. So he holds on tight to his own personal hurricane, and fights him with his teeth and his tongue. 

Nicky has to break off to pant, unable to get enough air through his nose. Victory one of today's battle goes to Joe today, it seems. “Do I steal your breath, my dear?” He asks, sickly sweet. Nicky’s eyes narrow, probably considering the merits of headbutting him, but instead he flutters his eyelashes and bites his lip and puts on his own starring-role performance. 

“Every minute of every day,” he purrs, arching his back just so, bringing them firmly into contact what feels like _everywhere_. “I should ask you to give it back, if only so I would have your lips on mine again-”

Happy to oblige, Joe thinks, already kissing him. Then he curses himself. Victory two goes to Nicky. Damn it. 

Joe pulls back with pursed lips, huffing softly. He lets go of Nicky and moves towards their bed, ignoring the lure of the enormous shower that awaits in the bathroom. They’re already sweaty from working out, why bother getting clean if they’re only going to dirty up again? And they clearly are, unless Nicky has figured out how to use denial against him. He doubts it- Nicky is as greedy for Joe as Joe is for him, and that’s the one thing they have never been able to hide from each other. The one thing they have in common; holding them together in this whole strange situation.

His eyes overflow with that greed, hungrily drinking Joe in and watching, hawk-like, while Joe strips off his shoes and shorts and then pulls his tank over his head. When the top is gone Nicky is there; pushing him hard so he topples back onto the mattress, and then shoving him up the bed until they can tumble into the centre together. Nicky gets a hand under Joe's knees and pushes his thighs towards his chest, before sliding his palms to Joe’s ankles to pull them around his waist. Joe allows it, because he secretly really enjoys the look on Nicky’s face when he thinks he’s won... and the rage that will follow when he is proven wrong. Joe would never give in this easily, hell no- mainly because he has too much pride but also because the triumph in his husband’s eyes is _good_ when he capitulates; but _intoxicating and addictive_ when he makes Nicky really work for it. 

Today though, Joe plans to win. They have a horrible roster of dinners and events coming up and he needs Nicky to owe him a few favours in advance. 

So when Nicky hovers over him and tilts his head, looking altogether too pleased with himself while rocking his hips down, and says, “are you finally going to be a good boy, Joe?”- Joe is ready with his retaliation. 

He bites his lip, watching Nicky watch _him_. Nicky's eyes and expression loosen into something new... wait what? But there’s no time to wonder about that because Joe is already tumbling them, using the loose material of Nicky’s sleeveless hoodie to push him up on one side and pull him down on the other. Nicky doesn’t go easily and they roll, over and over and-

Well the bed is huge but it isn't endless. They thump hard onto the floor, tangled in the top-most blanket and each other, aches springing to life immediately from the impact of two solid bodies crashing together under gravity’s guiding hand. Nicky lands front first with his head turned Joe’s way and Joe finds himself squashed up against his side, a leg slung over the back of Nicky’s warm thigh, arms stuck awkwardly between them. It isn’t comfortable.

“I suppose it isn’t a good sign that they haven’t come to check on us,” Joe mutters, groaning as he tries to sit up a few long seconds later. He wriggles around until he can slide a hand carefully under Nicky’s head to help him lift it, after Nicky just winces and squeezes his eyes shut when he tries himself. It would be fine except Joe also lets his thumb rub tenderly over Nicky’s temple and Nicky… notices. 

Their eyes catch and hold and time stands still. 

There's no family member to interrupt them here and now- no reason to stop apart from their own bizarre fear that they'll have to spend the rest of their lives together if this connection between them goes wrong somehow. But there's comfort in the fighting and the holding each other at arm's length. It's safe, and it can't hurt. Beyond the physical of course, which is often more than pleasurable enough for them both to come back for more. And yet here they lie, together on the floor just touching, scared for no rational reason.

Without warning the world seems to rush back and Nicky’s wide-eyed look turns to a dark precursor to rude words that will inevitably be masked as politeness. “If you wanted to cuddle all you had to do was ask,” he says exactly as Joe had predicted, a little too breathlessly but harsh enough to nudge them back on track. Joe rolls his eyes and uses the hand already there to push Nicky’s face down into the carpet (gently though, remembering his wince), squirming over him to pin him in place. Nicky fights back, wriggling and trying to buck him off but the blanket has him more trapped than it had Joe, holding him down along with Joe's weight. Nicky growls. Victory three to Joe- one up. Nice. 

Nicky growls again and lifts his hips up and back, and then Joe is gasping, grinding down in reflexive response. Victory four to Nicky, and by his chuckle he’s keeping count just as closely. Well fine, Joe can counter that. 

“You really want me to fuck you on the bedroom floor? I mean, we have a wonderful bed but if this is what you’re into then sure, I’m a good husband, I’ll give you what you need babe. No accounting for taste, I suppose…” he comments, as casual as can be, rocking down into Nicky and forcing his husband’s hips flat into the floor. Nicky moans for half a moment before snapping something unintelligible at himself, and then he renews his efforts to get free of the blankets. The writhing mostly serves to work his hoodie up under his armpits which Joe gladly takes advantage of, slipping a hand beneath his frustrated spouse to thumb over a sensitive nipple. Nicky had accidentally revealed _that_ weakness the same night that Joe had shuddered a bit too hard when Nicky had pulled on his hair, and he uses it mercilessly against the man underneath him now, teasing and twisting it until Nicky cries out and can’t stop his own hips from moving, thrusting weakly and arrhythmically into the floor. 

“Oh you like that do you?” Joe pretends to be surprised, inwardly checking off victory number five as squarely in his pocket.

“Fuck you!” 

“Maybe later.”

“Later I will put you on your fucking _knees_ -”

“Promises, promises!” Joe cackles, abandoning his fun with Nicky’s chest and smiling at his husband's relieved but simultaneously disappointed sigh. Joe drags him up by the hips, intending to get a hand into his pants, maybe work them both over like this, but Nicky catches him by surprise. While his weight is braced over Nicky’s lower back the bastard suddenly drops his hips down to the side, sending Joe rolling with a yelp. His surprise gives Nicky enough time to escape the blankets and stand up before Joe is going for him again, hands scrabbling at each other, trying to find purchase. They chase, Joe pressing his advantage and stalking Nicky back as he tries to grab his wrists or waist or hair so he can- they abruptly hit the wall beside the bed, Nicky-first. 

The nightstand rattles at the back of Nicky’s knees (he has to arch backwards and catch a hand behind him on the wall to stop from falling onto it which puts Joe at a delightful height advantage) and he glares at Joe who glares right back, disappointed that his winning position had been so rudely and prematurely stolen. But… 

A few nights ago they’d got rather… inventive, and had ended up with a few more accessories involved than usual. After riling each other up all throughout the formal dinner with the head of state Nicky had turned very creative and Joe’s tie is still hanging, looped, around the nearest bedpost, fallen down to where the post attaches to the headboard. Nicky doesn’t seem to have remembered it but Joe could never forget. 

Holy hell he _really_ couldn’t. Top three to date certainly; possibly _ever_ unless Nicky really impresses him in the years to come.

With that in mind Joe muscles Nicky back further, kicking the nightstand away to give them space directly next to the bed, and distracts him with a few fierce kisses until he can reach out and feel the silky cloth under his fingertips. It calls- _sings_ \- to him to use it. Nicky, he hopes, suspects nothing when Joe finally wins his wrist and wrestles his husband’s hand up above their heads, pinning it to the awaiting post almost high enough to reach the crossbar the drapes hang off. Joe has to do the next part carefully; lifting the fabric with his second hand behind Nicky’s back so he can add it to his handful up high, and giving ground to the other fingers Nicky is fighting back with. They end up unsurprisingly in Joe's hair, tugging deliciously, and he forces his knees to lock so he can complete his plan, shuddering into Nicky's mouth. Then- using every last reserve of speed- he hurries to outmanoeuvre Nicky. Joe grabs the hand from his hair and brings it quickly up to meet the first, looping the tie around them and knotting it up over the top of the post with his small amount of extra reach so Nicky finds himself bound and unable to get free.

By some miracle Joe manages to pull it off. And then Joe gets to step back and admire the way Nicky’s faintly dazed eyes sharpen into hot daggers, and he spits curses at him, chin high and proud, while Joe just grins, reveling in the thick, hot curl of his satisfaction that comes from the sight of Nicky tugging on his restraints, trussed up and gorgeous and perfect and all for _him_. 

Victory six, thank you very much. And with Nicky in the position he is? That’s game, set and match- there’s no winning for him now. Joe will have to come up with an appropriate forfeit, but that’s for once he’s done devouring his prize. 

Here and now Nicky awaits. 


End file.
